Adolphine left the piano and sat down beside her sister.

"I am sure that you are annoyed, Fanny, because your husband doesn't come home."

"I? Mon Dieu! I wasn't thinking about him at all. If he stays away, it is probably because he has business to attend to. You don't understand business, you see, Adolphine; you don't know that, if you want to make a lot of money, you must sometimes deprive yourself of a little pleasure."

"No, it's true, I don't understand money matters; but I thought that two people just married could not be happy apart, that they must be horribly bored when they're not together."

"Oh! my dear girl, there's reason in everything. And then, we have plenty of time to be together."

"Still, when you marry for love—and Monsieur MonlÉard certainly seemed to be in love with you—— Is that all over already?"

"Why—no—but when two people are once married, they're no longer like two lovers. You'll find that out some day, my little sister! I still call you little, although you're taller than I."

"Ah! I know that I could never love as placidly as you do!—I was afraid that your husband might be angry with you on account of that duel."

"Auguste has too much good sense and breeding to charge me with the folly and extravagance of another, as a crime. It's not my fault that another man was in love with me!"

"Oh! that poor Gustave! He did love you so dearly!"

"Oh, yes! I advise you to pity him! He behaved nobly, didn't he? To go shouting jeremiads in the street, and end by sending someone to fight in his place! Fie! it was shameful!"

"Fanny, you judge Gustave too harshly; do you impute it to him as a crime, that he didn't insult your husband? Oh! he probably would have done it, if his uncle hadn't dragged him away, almost by force, from that restaurant, where he absolutely insisted on speaking to you."

"How do you know all that?"

"Because it was I who sent word to Monsieur Grandcourt that his nephew was at the restaurant where the wedding was being celebrated."

"Oh! yes, so you told me. That fellow wanted to make a scene—and by what right? Was I obliged to marry him, I should like to know?"

"You allowed him to believe that you loved him."

"Nonsense! because a woman listens to the soft things these men say to her, because she smiles when they sigh, they instantly assume that she adores them. A fine position he offered me, didn't he? Three thousand francs a year—magnificent!"

"If you had really loved him, you wouldn't have cared about his wealth."

"Oh! I'm not romantic like you. With Auguste, I have a coupÉ at my orders, and I find it very pleasant. I tell you again, your Monsieur Gustave is an idiot!"

"Ah! Fanny, it's wicked for you to talk like that; to treat him so, just because he loved you sincerely."

"Much I care about his love! His behavior was none the less blamable. What excuse had he for sending that tall ruffian to insult me when I left the ball—which, of course, compelled Auguste to fight with the fellow?"

"I would take my oath that Monsieur Gustave never told that person, with whom he had dined, to say a single insulting word to you. Besides, Monsieur Grandcourt took his nephew away long before you left the ball. That man, who presumed to address an offensive remark to you, was drunk; he had already had trouble with some of the gentlemen, for he insisted on offering his arm to the ladies when they arrived for the ball."

"Then, my dear girl, you will agree that your Monsieur Gustave has some very low acquaintances?"

Adolphine made no reply, but sadly lowered her eyes. A moment later, her sister continued: "What surprises me is that I haven't once seen Monsieur Gustave, or met him anywhere, since my wedding. For a man so dead in love, not to try to see me at my window, at least once—— You see that he is consoled, so soon."

"He is not in Paris. His uncle forced him to start for Spain the very next day."

"Ah! he's in Spain? that makes a difference! But you seem to know all about him. From whom, pray?"

"Father met Monsieur Grandcourt not long ago, and he told him that his nephew was in Spain."

"Ah! someone has just rung."

"It's your husband, no doubt."

"If it's he, we shall see him in a moment."

It was not the master of the house who entered the salon, but Monsieur Gerbault, who, like an affectionate father, began by kissing his daughters.

"Good-evening, father," said Fanny. "Why didn't you come to dinner, with Adolphine? My husband didn't like it."

"I couldn't, my dear child. Adolphine must have told you that I had promised a gentleman from the provinces——"

"A fine reason! You should have sent your gentleman from the provinces off somewhere to dine by himself."

"No, when I have promised, I keep my promise. Where is your husband, by the way?"

"He had somebody to see to-night. He'll be at home soon."

"There! we have lost! I knew it!" cried Madame de Mirallon. "Ah! Monsieur Batonnin, I will never forgive you those six counters!"

"But, madame, I am well paid by the pleasure of having been your partner."

"Luckily, Monsieur Gerbault is here. He knows how to play! Come and take a hand, Monsieur Gerbault."

"I do not care to play any more," said De Raincy; "when I have played two rubberth, I have had enough; it maketh my head ache."

As he spoke, the nattily-gloved youth left the card-table and joined the two sisters.

"Were you at the Bourse to-day, Monsieur de Raincy?" inquired Fanny.

"Thertainly, madame; I go there every day."

"How were the OrlÉans and Lyon Railway shares?"

"Very thtrong, madame."

"Do you think they'll go higher?"

"Why, yeth, I think tho; unleth they go down."

"That's rather a vague opinion."

"I never have any definite opinion. At the Bourth one ith tho often mithtaken! But your huthband can keep you pothted better than I can. He ith alwayth there; he theemth to be interethted in thome big dealth."

"Auguste? True, but he doesn't like to have me ask him how the market is going; he declares that women know nothing about it; that they ought to attend to spending the money, not to making it."

"I fanthy that ith the general rule among the ladieth."

"I think differently. Oh! if I had been a man, I would have been a stock-broker!"

"Do you mean it! There are thome of them who have to put up with lotheth. Ah! here'th our dear MonlÉard!"

Fanny's husband had just arrived; he wore his right arm in a sling; he was very pale, his face was careworn, and his eyes almost sombre. However, finding guests in his salon, he instantly assumed the affable manner which a host should always display. Young De Raincy hastened to go to shake hands with him.

"Good-evening! dear boy."

"Good-evening! Anatole. Messieurs, mesdames, your servant!"

The Comte de la BÉriniÈre also shook hands with MonlÉard, crying:

"Ah! here's the lucky man! the fortunate husband! So you still offer your left hand, eh?"

"What would you have! it's not my fault that I can't use my right."

"Why the devil do you want to fall on the stairs? You're too careless—and the day after your wedding, too! I'll stake my head you were running to your wife?"

"Just so!" Auguste replied, with a glance at Fanny, who simply smiled, without raising her eyes from her embroidery frame.

"I was sure of it! It was his haste, his love for you, belle dame, which caused his accident. Ah! your eyes are very dangerous! But, after all, as love caused the destruction of Troy, it may well make a man slip on the stairs."

"Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre, pray come here a moment."

"Gad! Madame de Mirallon can't seem to get enough of me this evening. It's a conspiracy! Can she have conceived the idea of monopolizing me?"

And the count, who had made these remarks in an undertone, added aloud:

"But, madame, I see that Monsieur Batonnin is no longer your partner; Monsieur Gerbault has taken his place, so you can have no reason to complain now."

"Ah! what a cruel man you are! I wanted to show you an extraordinary hand."

"Mon Dieu! she has shown me her hand often enough!" muttered the count, turning toward young De Raincy; "I don't care to see it any more."

Auguste, having shaken hands with his father-in-law, and said a word or two to the different guests, went up to his wife and tapped her gently on the cheek.

"You are making me a piece of furniture, I see, madame," he said; "that is well done of you!"

"Oh! that would take too long," rejoined Fanny, looking up at her husband as she would have looked at the merest acquaintance; "it's a stool, that's all."

"Mon Dieu! what are you doing with that newspaper spread out before you?"

"I am posting myself as to the prices of stocks, my dear."

"That's a most entertaining occupation for a woman."

As he spoke, Auguste took the paper, crumpled it in his hands, and tossed it into a corner of the salon; Fanny watched him while he did it, then glanced at her sister, and said under her breath:

"You see, he doesn't want me to look at the market reports. But I shall look at some other paper—that's all."

"Does your arm still pain you, brother?" Adolphine asked MonlÉard, having observed his thoughtful expression.

"No, little sister, no. I thank you for being good enough to take some interest in it. There are people who take more interest in the rise and fall of stocks than in the wound I received; and yet——"

He paused, as if he were afraid of saying too much; but Adolphine had fully grasped the significance of his words, and she whispered to her sister:

"Your husband is vexed because you didn't ask him about his wound."

"Let me alone, pray! Haven't I seen my husband to-day? I fancy that the condition of his arm hasn't changed in a few hours."

"No matter; it isn't nice of you not to show more interest; for, after all, it was on your account that that duel took place."

"Oh! I beg you, Adolphine, don't talk to me like that; you set my nerves on edge! For several days, my husband has been in a very disagreeable mood; as I cannot be the cause of it, I don't worry about it in the least; indeed, I even pretend not to notice it."

"If I were in your place, I would ask him the cause of it."

"Oh! I should be very sorry if I did! My gentleman is capricious, it seems; so much the worse for him!"

"If I am not mistaken, you promised to sing for us, mademoiselle," said Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre, who had once more escaped from Madame de Mirallon and hastened to Adolphine's side.

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, if it will give you any pleasure, I will gladly sing; but it will disturb the whist."

"Sing away!" said Monsieur Gerbault; "we will stuff our ears."

"Thanks, papa!"

"There's a father who doesn't say what he thinks, I am sure."

While Adolphine took her place at the piano, young Anatole said to MonlÉard:

"Ith it true that Morithel hath run away?"

"Why, yes!"

"The devil! And he'th carried off thix hundred thouthand francth, they thay."

"Something like that."

"You had thome buthineth relathionth with him; haven't you lotht anything by him?"

"No—a trifle—some thirty thousand francs or so."

"A trifle like that would embarrath me thadly! To be thure, I'm not a capitalitht like you."

Auguste bit his lips and took a seat by the piano. Adolphine sang a lovely romanza by Nadaud. Her voice was sweet and well modulated; in a word, it was a sympathetic voice, and, furthermore, its possessor had an agreeable habit of pronouncing distinctly the words she sang; which increased twofold the pleasure of those who listened to her.

Auguste's face lighted up a little. Young Anatole ceased to gaze at his hands; the count seemed fascinated, and did not once remove his eyes from the singer. At last, Madame de Mirallon exclaimed:

"It's your play, Monsieur Batonnin; do, for heaven's sake, attend to the game!"

"A thousand pardons, madame; I was listening to the singing."

"But we are not singing, monsieur!"

"Thank God!" muttered Monsieur Clairval.

"What's that! Why did you say: 'Thank God!' Monsieur Clairval?"

"Because, if we were all singing, madame, we should not have the pleasure of hearing mademoiselle."

"You see that I am disturbing the game," said Adolphine.

"No, no; pray go on, mademoiselle! As if people could play whist for two minutes without a dispute! You are the pretext at this moment, that's all."

Adolphine continued to sing. The game of whist came to an end, and Madame de Mirallon lost again. She left the table in a pet, exclaiming:

"I certainly will give up playing whist!"

"Do you know my favorite game?" said Monsieur Gerbault; "it's bÉzique."

"Fie, fie! a messroom game!"

"I don't know anything about that; but piquet is a messroom game, too, which doesn't prevent its being a very fine game. I've heard people say of lansquenet: 'It's a footman's game!' the same thing has been said of ÉcartÉ—but that doesn't prevent those games from being played in the salons. For my part, I believe in playing the game that amuses us, without disturbing ourselves about its origin."

"I am wild over bÉzique, too," cried Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre; "and, if you will allow me, Monsieur Gerbault, I shall take great pleasure in playing a game with you."

"Whenever you choose, monsieur le comte, you will be welcome."

"That's a game I am very fond of, too," said Monsieur Batonnin.

"I am not thure whether I know it, but I think not."

"Very well, messieurs," said Fanny; "the next time, we'll have a bÉzique table for those who like it.—How is it with you, Auguste; do you play it?"

"I? What? what game is that?" replied MonlÉard, who had not listened to the conversation.

"BÉzique."

"No. Oh! yes, I played it yesterday."

"My son-in-law is distraught this evening."

They talked a few moments more, then all the guests took leave of the young husband and wife. But, as she went away, Adolphine could not resist the desire to say to her sister, in an undertone:

"Do be more affectionate with your husband. He is unhappy, I assure you."

"And I assure you," rejoined Fanny, "that that's none of my affair; as if a woman must be forever worrying about her husband's looks! That would not be a very entertaining occupation!"